Bill Walton surveys the Tundra Fest carnage. The smell of sizzling spicey sausage fills his nostrils.
George Foreman Senior fires up thousands of sausages. It’ll be breakfast for the masses who are mostly passed out from yesterday’s festivities.
Walton turned out to be only one of the 5.37 million in attendance who stayed up all night taking in the ambiance of Tundra Fest. Most of the others crashed at 3:57 am.
“This is the day the Tundra Fest has made,” he says. “Let us rejoice and be glad. It’s game day. The Packers and the Bradys for the NFC title and the ticket to the Super Bowl. I’ve never felt this great, not in my entire life, to feel the emotional connection with so many animals and people. It’s great to be alive. And I can’t wait to ride in the Weinermobile all the way to the Super Bowl flying all the way there on a trip more amazing than the voyages of the Vikings in the Middle Ages.”
The mood is not up everywhere. Over at the nearby Motel 6, Belichick stumbles around the shoe-box-sized room in his underwear and sweatshirt, both cut off and ratty looking. Roger Goddess and Robert Kraft snore next to each other in the other bed.
“What are we supposed to do now?” growls Belichick. “I got on my knees and begged Brady to come back to the Patriots. I told him I was sorry for being jealous of him. I embarrassed myself. And he’s still not coming back to win us another Super Bowl.”
Kraft sits up in his bed.
“I got it, we’ll sneak into today’s game and work the sideline chains so we can be close to Brady during the game,” he says. “If we can heckle him and throw him off his game, maybe he’ll lose and then be willing to come back to win another Super Bowl for us.”
Back at Tundra Fest, the butchers continue slaughtering animals and hurling them over to George Foreman Senior to grill for breakfast sausage. John Madden snores in the Wienermobile caused the blow-up vehicle to get bigger and smaller repetitively.
The Green Bay Newspaper reports that Joey Chestnut’s surgery to take out his colon had some complications because he had crammed more than 100 bratwursts in there during yesterday’s eating contest.
“We had to use a jackhammer to clean it all out,” the surgeon said.
Sportface calls Goddess.
“We need Walton calling the game today in the broadcast booth,” he says. “If you don’t agree, I’ll post a blog about your smoking dope with Ricky Williams.”
“Damnit, Sportface, when is this blackmail gonna stop?” asks Goddess.
“Not until the Baby Boomer Brotherhood gets 23 members to join the movement,” says Sportface. “We’ve got a long way to go.”
“I’ve had it with Sportface,” says Belichick. “The punk is ruining my football empire.”
Back at Lambeau, a Wisconsin band wakes everybody up with this tune:
“Closer to free,” says Walton. “What a cosmic tune at the perfect time as we all get closer than ever to being as free as we’ve ever been. And Tom Brady is the most free of all of us. That’s a reason to celebrate today like none of us ever have in our lives right here and right now at these hallowed grounds known as Lambeau Field.”
To be continued…
Sammy Sportface, a sports blogger, galvanizes, inspires, and amuses The Baby Boomer Brotherhood. And you can learn about his vision and join this group's Facebook page here:
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